e came to me. You like
her?"

"I think she's a darling, and Olga is quite a nice name. A friend of
mine at school had a dog like her, and we used to take her into
Kensington Gardens for a run on Saturday afternoons. Her name was Pearl.
It's a pretty name for a white wolfhound, isn't it? They're like pearls,
somehow, so smooth and shining."

She was stroking the dog's satiny head as she spoke, and did not notice
the change in the man's face; but when he remained silent she looked up
as though to see why he did not respond.

"Oh, Mr. Herrick, what's the matter?" Toni was frightened by his pallor.

"Nothing--nothing!" He shook off his mental disturbance with a strong
effort. "I ... I sometimes have a sort of pain--in my heart--but it's
gone, quite gone, now."

Toni was not altogether satisfied with the explanation and asked herself
remorsefully what she had said to vex him; but she could not think of
anything which would be likely to give offence to her host, and decided,
finally, that he had spoken truthfully.

She could not know how intimately the tragedy of Herrick's life was
bound up with the thought of a string of shining pearls; and her very
unconsciousness served to show the man she had spoken in all innocence.

"Your husband must be very busy with this review in hand," he said
presently, remembering Barry's entreaty to him to examine the situation
for himself. "Does he work at home or has he to spend much time in
town?"

"Oh, he does both," she said, relieved by his return to his former
manner. "He is in town to-day, but he has been at home a good deal
lately."

"I see. It must be rather dull for you when he is shut up writing," he
went on tentatively. "Writers and men of letters generally like to be
left to themselves pretty much."

"Oh, I don't think my husband does," said Toni blithely. "I often go in
and sit with him while he works, and if I promise to go to bed early he
sometimes brings his papers into the drawing-room at night."

Herrick felt a sudden spasm of amusement, mingled with a distinct
impulse of sympathy for the unfortunate writer.

"Oh! I should have thought it would be too disturbing to work in the
room with anyone else--even one's wife," he added with a smile.

"Why should it be?" Toni opened eyes of amazement. "I sit quite still--I
hardly ever speak--and Jock and I--my dog--play little games together
ever so quietly."

"You don't help him in his work?"

"No." She shook her he